How the Monster Beat the Mountain

By Bill Caswell, Jalopnik

COLORADO SPRINGS, Colorado — Pikes Peak is one of the most treacherous venues in all of racing, if not in all of sports. Hell — it might be one of the most treacherous venues in all of anything. Every summer, dozens of hardened racers assault 156 curves and brave precipitous drops in a flat-out sprint to the summit at 14,115 feet.

They’re all chasing the Monster.

[partner id=”jalopnik”]Two days before his 61st birthday, Nobuhiro “Monster” Tajima was once again crowned King of the Mountain. His winning the Pikes Peak International Hill Climb for the sixth consecutive year on June 26 was no surprise, but his time was. He completed the 12.42-mile course in 9:51.278, becoming the first person to conquer Pikes Peak in less than 10 minutes.

That barrier has been the motorsports equivalent of running a four-minute mile. Having crashed out of the race during my own run up Pikes Peak, I had to know how he did it.

The Monster in his natural habitat, doing what he does best: Hauling ass.

You would think with all the racing teams in the world and all the crazy machinery they build, someone would have broken into the nines by now. Tajima himself came tantalizingly close in 2007 when he achieved a time of 10:01.4 in his wild Suzuki Sport XL7.

Conventional wisdom says the 10-minute barrier fell because the course, a mix of tarmac and dirt, now includes additional pavement above the area known as Devil’s Playground at 12,780 feet. I don’t buy it. I think it was Tajima’s special race-week diet: Salad, salad and more salad. Each night was an adventure in finding the best salad bar in Colorado Springs. But here’s a secret: Every trip to the summit during his reconnaissance runs was an orgy of chili dogs and doughnuts.

To the normal person this sounds insane, but I get it. There is something special about stuffing your face with doughnuts at 14,000 feet when you can hardly breath. To Tajima it was ritual. He was having the time of his life. He knew this was his year.

The only time I didn’t see him smiling was when he was stretching, about to get in the car to achieve greatness. He was dead serious. Focused. In a trance. I asked him what he was thinking that morning when he climbed into the car.

Nobuhiro 'Monster' TajimaBill Caswell: Was this the year?

Nobuhiro Tajima: Yes, it was my feeling, which was very good based on qualifying.

BC: When did you know you had beaten the record?

NT: Halfway around Glen Cove. The tires, the suspension, the engine, they kept getting better and better. The car was fantastic. [Ed. note: Glen Cove is approximately six miles into the course (.pdf).]

BC: There was oil everywhere at Bottomless Pit and many cars slowed down. Race officials were warning all the cars about it at the start. Where you concerned? [Ed. note: Bottomless Pit is at 12,760 feet, just beyond the halfway mark.]

NT: There was oil on the outside, so I used the inside. It was slower than the best line but it was the clear line.

I watched Tajima come through this corner, and he never eased off the accelerator. He rode the corner on the inside, and at the last minute ducked to the outside exactly where oil ended. It was perfect.

BC: You couldn’t drive the car back down the mountain? What happened?

NT: Just before I entered Cog Cut [near the end of the course] I lost power steering and the water pump. I had to muscle the car through the final corners. When I crossed the finish line the water temperature was 150 degrees Celsius [302 degrees Fahrenheit]!

BC: Was the engine misfiring from the heat?

NT: No, but if I lost the water pump even a corner earlier I might not have made it. I was very lucky.

The Monster's car is unlike any Suzuki you'll ever drive.

Of course, I wanted to know what about the car had changed from last year, when Tajima completed the course in 10:11.5.

“We had new tuning and turbos and a new wheel and tire package,” Tajima said.

Tajima designed and built the 910-horsepower GoPro Suzuki SX4 Hill Climb Special with help from his crew at Monster Sport, his tuning shop. They’ve all got WRC experience, and Tajima has been racing since 1968.

No one can doubt Tajima’s skill behind the wheel, but he feels the extra strength he needed to break the record stemmed from the hope and optimism of his home country, Japan. Tajima told me there is still tremendous suffering in the wake of the earthquake and tsunami, but things are getting better.

He said he wanted to break the record to show that even in the toughest of times, the most difficult of obstacles can be overcome. It was important to him that he take the energy, the excitement, of his win and improve his country’s morale.